


Invitation

by nadie2



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Fluff, M/M, Mycroft Has a Goldfish, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21774346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nadie2/pseuds/nadie2
Summary: Mycroft Holmes invites Gregory Lestrade to his parent's house for the Christmas holiday to pretend to be his boyfriend. The lines between reality and fiction are a bit blurred.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 28
Kudos: 277





	1. 2018 December 10

**Author's Note:**

> I originally intended to post each part of this story on the day it "happened", but I'm two days late. Hope to catch-up, and keep up.  
> I have eight chapters set last December, and two chapters set this January.  
> It's unbetted. I'm sorry my friends, but I did try my best to catch mistakes.

2018, December 10

It's not often that Greg actually has a moment alone at work, and when he does he always takes the opportunity to have some coffee and a pastry. It never lasts long, and today is not an exception.

"Mycroft!" Greg exclaims around the donuts as he rises to his feet.

"I didn't mean to interrupt your...meal," Mycroft says with only the tinniest accidental sneer of his nose.

"It's quite all right. What did Sherlock get himself into now? Is he in jail again?"

Mycroft's face fights a grin, the way it almost always does when he thinks about his baby brother, "Not since John's ill fated bachelor party. This isn't actually about Sherlock."

"Well, if it isn't Sherlock, than it must be serious. What do you need?" He says with such intensity that Mycroft is certain that if he ever did call upon Greg's help in order to prevent the world from crashing down Greg would be someone that he could rely on.

"I've come to ask for something that is more in the line of a personal favor," Mycroft says suavely. Greg is taken a back, but he nods. "I'm sure you are aware that my brother and his doctor have entered into a romantic relationship."

"Yeah, took them long enough," Greg huffs.

Mycroft's face is unreadable in the way that it always gets when he's hiding something, "You can imagine that Mummy is quite pleased with these developments."

"I'll bet, especially with Rosie in the family," Greg says.

"She's begun putting pressure on her oldest son to settle down," Mycroft says. He sighs, "Daily."

"Oh, I'm sorry mate," Greg says with sympathy.

"Am I correct in understanding that you will not be spending the holidays with your wife this year?" Mycroft asks.

"My ex-wife, and no, that's over. Been over a for a while," Greg says looking really confused. Then he remembers Mycroft was asking for something personal, and he recoils at the thought of someone like Mycroft being with his ex wife "Oh, no Mycroft, I don't know what your spies and CTV have told you, but you would not be happy with Alice."

"No serial meandering, impulsive spending, and emotional distance are unlikely to make anyone happy," Mycroft says. Greg look at him in surprise. He'd ever figured that Mycroft would care enough to notice something like that about him. "Besides, if I were to show up at Christmas with a woman, my family would have a lot of questions." Mycroft shifts, and it's the first time that Greg has ever seen him look awkward. 

"Oh!" Greg says, "Forgive me for being heterosexual normative there. I should know better," he says with a shy smile, "I've had a few relationships with men myself." Mycroft nods, and Greg feels like an idiot, because he knew, of course he knew. "I'm sorry, my experiences are from college. I don't know any suitable partners for you..."

"Right," Mycroft says his face falling in a way that is far more open an honest than Greg has ever seen. "It was a bit much to ask, and I'm sorry to have interrupted your afternoon tea." He spins out of the room. Greg's stomach sinks. He knows that he's muddled the conversation horribly, but he isn't sure exactly what he did wrong. He follows Mycroft, "Wait, do you want a donut?" Mycroft's eyes look amused, but he doesn't say anything. "No of course you don't want a donut. You eat posh food. I'm a slob. I just...you could stay. I could...serve you some tea which is a lot worse than the tea you are used to."

"I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable," Mycroft says softly, "It was too much to ask. I was pushing as hard as Mummy."

"Oh God!" Greg says, "You were asking me to spend the holidays with you?"

"It was a miscalculation, it was far too much to ask. I apologize," Mycroft says trying to make his escape. 

"No, I just didn't see it," Greg says quickly continuing to follow the other man down the empty corridor. "It honestly never occurred to me seeing as how...out of your league I are. I would love to spend the holidays with you."

"It's quite all right. I'll tell my mom some edited version of this misadventure, and the sympathy will buy me a bit of time," Mycroft says.

"Well, I'm glad that I cause you enough suffering to warrant a reprieve, but seriously. I didn't understand. I would love to do this with you."

Mycroft examines his face for a long moment, and then he lets out a long sigh before he says, "You will be suitably compensated of course."

Greg feels a sinking in his stomach, because of course it's not real. Of course Mycroft bloody Holmes would never actually want to date him. To Mycroft, Greg is just someone easy enough to manipulate, and make a good showing for his mother. Greg shakes his head, "If I didn't take money for letting Sherlock detox at my house, or arresting him for you when he needed you to give him a wake-up call, or..."

"Taking care of him in a way he would never allow me to," Mycroft says with his voice thick with emotion.

"Right, if I didn't take money for all of that, why would I take money for his?" Greg asks.

They stare into each other's eyes for a second or two longer than is strictly necessary. "My secretary will send you the details, thank you." Greg watches the British government walk away, and has one of those moments where he can't quite believe this is his life.


	2. 2018 December 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft takes Greg on a proper date. Greg gets revenge by getting him to try beer.

Mycroft Holmes is nothing of not thorough, and this was a fact that Greg was well acquainted with. The details Mycroft sent him turned out to resemble study guide for a green card marriage, including a time line of when some fictional version of himself had gotten together with the man of his dreams. 

He dials the number that Mycroft had given him, years ago, originally so that he would have someone to call if Sherlock stopped breathing. 

"Mycroft," he says, "What the hell is this? Fifty-four pages? Is your mother going to be administering some sort of A level examination on your childhood?" 

"Oh no, her examination will be much more difficult to pass. Let me assure you, that while many of the aspects of deduction are learned, some of them are inherited, and my mother is rather clever," Mycroft says. 

"Okay, then what information are you going to need from me? I'll type it up of course, give you a chance to study like you did for me." 

"I have sufficient knowledge of you," Mycroft assures him. 

"Right, I'm sure you know a lot from your records, and the spying, but that's not the kind of thing that your mother is going to be interested in. You're going to have to know things like what is my football team." 

"Manchester United," Mycroft deadpans. 

Greg pauses, "Lucky guess." 

"There was no guessing involved. It is a matter of pure geography. Besides, I included it in the story of the relationship that I created for us. On page twenty-two you watch the games in my theater while I read novels." 

"Right," Greg says flipping to the page. Suddenly he gets a feeling in the pit of his stomach that is warm and strange and alluring. There were less than twelve hours between the time that he agreed to his hair brained scheme, and when the large bundle of papers had arrived by messenger. That was a lot to create in so short a time, and some of it, no doubt, could have been hobbled together by servants and minions of various kinds. But some of it...was more intimate than Mycroft would trust to anyone that he knew in a professional capacity, and more than that...the story, the creative aspects of how their lives would look they were all woven together. That had to have been written by Mycroft himself. And given the time constraints, it had to have been written before he'd talked to Greg. 

"Perhaps we should do a dry run, before the big day," Greg suggests. "Just to work out all of the kinks." 

"Are you suggesting that we trick someone else's mother into thinking that we are a couple?" Mycroft asks. 

"No, perhaps just some baristas, or waiters, or a bar tender maybe," Greg says. 

Mycroft's voice sounds surprised (Greg can't believe that he would be surprised by people wanting to spend time with him), "If you think that would be necessary than we should, I do not want to neglect anything that would make our mission more successful." 

Greg has always enjoyed flirting, but this is having much more effect on him than any flirting he's ever had before. "Yes, well, practice does make perfect does it not?" 

"So, I've heard," Mycroft say, "I’m sending a car for you right now." 

-0- 

Greg should have known that Mycroft would have taken him to a restaurant like this, and prepared accordingly, but to be fair he hadn't had a chance to stop home for a fancier suit before Mycroft arrived to take him out, "I can't believe you had a coat in your car for me," Greg says. 

"One must always be prepared," Mycroft continues. 

"You've got anything else in that boot meant for me?" Greg asks. 

"Perhaps you will just have to stick around long enough to find out," Mycroft says with a sly smile. Then his face falls a little bit, "Gregory, someone from my office is here." 

"Okay, how are we going to play this?" Greg asks but it's already too late. 

"Lady Smallwood," Mycroft says rising from his table. 

"Mycroft, it's good to see you somewhere other than the office," she says warmly looking at the other man with an obvious question in her face. 

"Yes, Gregory does have the lovely effect of whisking me away from work now and again," he says so warmly that for a second Greg forgets that this is all a clever lie. 

"Good," Lady Smallwood says, "I think you know my boyfriend, Ralph." 

"Yes, we've met," Greg says leaning forward to shake his hand. "I don't think you've met my boyfriend, Gregory." Greg stands up, and tries to fight the blush stealing across his cheeks. 

"No, I haven't had the pleasure," she says warmly, "I'm glad to see you dating," she giggles, "You could have told me about your orientation you know." 

"It didn't seem like it was the right time," Mycroft says. 

"I asked him out a few years back," Lady Smallwood says to the man next to her. "Thankfully, he said no or I never would have found you," she says warmly to him. "Well, we'd better let you get back to your date," she says walking away. 

"Thank you," Mycroft says letting out a breath, "I couldn't explain...." 

"Of course not, it's okay," Greg assures him warmly. 

"This lie has gotten big pretty fast, I'm sorry," Mycroft says. 

"Maybe we shouldn't have gone out," Greg says looking down. 

"No, it's fine," Mycroft sighs, "While the people I work with are a lot more subtle about wanting me to date than my parents I don't think they want it any less. Being single at my age, does tend to make people worry about. If I'm going to lie, I might as well go about it whole heartily. I just didn't want to put you in a position where you were getting more than you bargained for." 

"In for a penny, in for a pound," Greg says with a shrug of his shoulders. "Now," he leans forward conspiratorially, "Is this the sort of place where I am going to get odd looks if I order a beer?" 

"It's more the sort of place where you're going to have to choose between fifteen different kinds of micro brews," Mycroft says pointing him to the correct page on the menu, "I'd let you know what was good, but frankly I've never had one." 

"Here?" Greg asks. 

Mycroft shakes his head. 

"You've never had a beer, in your whole entire life?" Greg says. 

"I'm partial to wine actually, but if it alarms you so much, I'll order one," Mycroft says opening his own menu to the correct page. 

"Nope!" Greg says reaching over to snap his menu closed, "No way are you giving up your beer virginity in this place!" 

"Really," Mycroft says blushing at the term Greg choose to use. 

"We're going to have a nice dinner here, where you are going to order some kind of wine for the two of us, and I'm going to try to elevate my plebeian taste buds, and afterwards, I'm going to take you to a proper pub, and you are going to have a proper beer, off the tap," Greg says. 

Mycroft doesn't miss the fact that Greg has just extended his date without even asking permission. He's used to people deferring to him all of the time, and it should be rather unsettling to have someone who is making decisions on his behalf, but instead he finds it rather alluring. It's been a long time since Mycroft Holmes didn't know what was going to happen next. 

-0- 

"What do you think?" Greg asks grinning at Mycroft after his first sip of beer. 

"I find the carbonation unsettling," Mycroft says twitching his nose. 

"Just think of it as champagne," Greg offers. 

"I don't drink champagne for the same reason," Mycroft says with annoyance. 

"Noted," Greg says taking the beer out of his hand, "You want brandy?" he asks. Mycroft nods. Even though he's quite sure that whatever this establishment passes off as brandy is not going to cut it. A soccer goal is made on television causing the bar to erupt into cheers, Mycroft flinches. Greg shakes his head, "I'm so sorry. Here I was thinking if I could get you someplace like this you're relax and let your hair down. But you're a grown man, you've had time to figure out what you like out of life. If you liked pubs, you'd go to pubs. Let's leave." 

"Finish your beer," Mycroft says with a touch of flirtatiousness, "This place is not without its charms."


	3. 2018, December 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft's grandmother insists on meeting the boyfriend.

"You've got plans for this weekend?" Sally asks Greg.

"Not really," Greg says. His work life has always been more interesting than his home life. A fact that he normally tries to hide.

"Really?" Sally asks, "Because a butler just delivered a garment bag. Left something at someone's house did you?"

"Oh God," Greg says walking out into the main room to see his colleges gathered around the bag. Greg hurries up to grab the bag from them.

"Who is this Mycroft, and why does she feel the need to dress you?" Anderson asks.

"Mycroft?" Sally says looking at him.

"Do you have a problem with the fact that I'm dating a man?" he asks with raised eyebrows.

"Not at all, though it's a bit of a surprise. I've known you for years and would have thought you brought it up. I'm just a little alarmed that you're dating Mycroft bloody Holmes," she says.

"Wait, Sherlock's brother?" Anderson asks.

"That's not the alarming part," Sally says not breaking eye contact with her boss.

Greg turns the note toward himself, "Just a little something from my boot. Can will find you at seven."

"He's dressing you then? Do we need an intervention?" Sally asks only half teasing.

"Leave it, Sally, it turns out I do have plans for this weekend."

-0-

The black car pulls up, and the door opens. Mycroft gets out and holds the door open for Greg who slides in before being rejoined by Mycroft.

"I was tempted to give you a bit of a challenge with the pickup," Greg admits with shining eyes, "But I knew you would have found me no matter where I was, and I was more than a little bit worried I would have sent the wrong message."

"The idea rather integers me, perhaps next time," Mycroft replies sending a chill down Greg's spine. "You look good in that suit," Mycroft says.

"Well, you do have very nice taste in clothes," Greg says, "Thank you."

"I hope it was all right to send it to your place of work. We never discussed it, but it was the only way I could get it to you in time. My grandmother asked Sherlock and me and our 'significant others' over for drinks."

"Oh, Grandmother?" Greg asks in shock.

"Yes, she's ninety-seven, and a force to be reckoned with, a wise man would back out now."

"Well, as your brother constantly reminds me, I am not a wise man," Greg says grinning at him.

Mycroft chuckles, "I should warn you she insists on us calling her Gramsy, and she's for sure going to make some dirty jokes. Be prepared."

"Okay, noted," Greg says chuckling.

"And watch your butt," Mycroft says.

"What?" Greg says in horror.

"Never turn your back to her, she's a pincher."

"All right then," Greg says blinking in surprise.

Mycroft sighs, "I'm not sure exactly how to prepare you for her. She regularly flirts with twenty-year-old men."

"Perhaps I'll be too old for her, the gray hair might be a turn-off," Greg says running a hand through his hair.

"Unfortunately, you are exactly her type. Strong, smart, and working-class," Mycroft says shifting uncomfortably with the thought that his type and his grandmother's type are the same.

Greg chuckles awkwardly, "Should I flirt back?"

"God no!" Mycroft says flushing, "She likes to own things, particularly people, and one flirty word and she'll be convinced that she owns you too." They sit in silence for a bit before Mycroft continues, "I don't want you to think that she's all bad. She's a force of nature really. Her father said he couldn't go to school when she was young, because she was a woman. Her mother finally got her into a finishing school. She and her friends would wake up in the middle of the night to study hand me down Latin grammar from her brother. She didn't just educate herself, but all the girls around her."

Greg smiles fondly.

"She's also going to tell you how expensive every item she owns is. She might tell you you're inheriting it, but don't get attached, she re-writes the will every time she becomes annoyed."

"Emotional terrorism, I like it a bit more than I should," Greg admits, "Sherlock, and John are going to be there right? Are they in on our little...ruse here?"

Mycroft sets his lips, "I don't think we'll have to worry about it."

"If we're trying to fool the king of deductions..." Greg begins.

"I wouldn't worry about it," Mycroft repeats.

"You might be able to fool him, but I haven't exactly been practicing fooling him since he was a newborn," Greg says nervously.

"His ability to make deductions has...somewhat diminished now that he and John Watson have embarked on a romantic relationship."

"You're saying a little romance made him mortal...imagine that," Greg says.

Mycroft's face falls, and he looks out the window of the car in silence for the rest of the drive.

-0-

"Mycroft my dear," Gramzy says. For a second Greg thinks that she is going to hug Mycroft, but quickly realizes that she's just taking off her grandson's coat. He quickly takes off his own coat in order to save himself the embarrassment of being waited on by the old noblewomen. In the process, he loses track of her for a minute, and she manages to grab his but. Greg makes an indignant squeak.

"I did warn you," Mycroft says taking the coats from his grandmother and trying to hang them on the coat rack.

"Oh no dear, don't use that. It's going to John when I died. John, and his lovely little daughter."

"Where do you want me to put the coats then?" Mycroft asks with a face not betraying his annoyance at all.

"Oh, just any old place," Gramzy replies waving her arms around.

Mycroft sighs, "I'll put them in the spare room, then."

"All right dear, but be gentle, because you know that bed is hundreds of years old. It's a lucky bed, always leads to conception. Of course with all these gay grandchildren of mine, who knows if it will ever be needed again," she says with a sigh, "Now come on," she links elbows with Greg and whisks him into the next room.

"Sherlock's boyfriend is a doctor," she explains pulling Greg into the sitting room.

"I know," Greg says.

"Sherlock, you've introduced your beau to your brother's beau, but not your dear Gramzy?" Gramzy says bopping her grandson on the head.

"I actually knew John since between he was dating Sherlock, and from before I was dating Mycroft," Greg says.

"And how long exactly have you been dating Mycroft?" Sherlock asks with mirth in his eyes.

"Four months," Greg says because by George he'd studied the packet that Mycroft had given him.

"That's a long time. I don't understand why you didn't introduce him to us before, Mycroft," Gramzy scolds as Mycroft appears in the doorway.

"I believe my brother has been dating John longer than Mycroft and I have been," he says dryly.

"Mycroft's known Greg for fourteen years," Sherlock blurts.

"Fourteen years!" Gramzy exclaims, "Why don't I have great-grandchildren yet? Honestly?"

"We were just friends until recently," Greg says, and he notices a flinch of pain behind Mycroft's eyes at the words coming out of his mouth.

"Well, you'd better hurry up and consider kids now. I want to meet my great-grandchildren after all, and you know I'm not going to live forever."

"I'm not so sure about that," Sherlock says earning a playful glare from Gramzy.

"So where is Rosie, tonight?" Greg asks.

The three Holmes turn to stare at him like he's a complete idiot, while John just looks amused. "Honestly, your man needs some lessons on manners if he thinks it would be appropriate to bring a toddler to a formal evening."

"Don't worry," John says, "I need manners lessons as well."

"I just thought since you were so excited about having grandchildren..." Greg says in confusion.

"Oh it's good that John has Rosie of course," Gramzy says, "I'll meet her, of course, Christmas morning, that's the sort of event for children. But she's not my great-grandchild."

Sherlock looks uncomfortable, "Gramzy, I told you..."

"Yes of course," Gramzy said waving her hand in front of him, "You love her like your own, and I'm glad you have her. I am. Maybe when you guys settle down Sherlock can have a proper baby."

Sherlock opens his mouth to object, but shuts it again when John squeezes Sherlock's hand where it rests on John's knee. Sherlock shuts his mouth, and Greg wonders if you have to date Sherlock in order to train him to behave that well. Probably not, since John had been controlling him for years, but you did probably have to be John in order to pull it off.

Gramzy seams alarmed at her inability to get Sherlock's goat, and turn to Mycroft, "How is work going? Are you sick enough of that minor government position to do something important with your life."

Greg bursts out laughing, and everyone in the room turns to him with various degrees of horror in their faces, "I'm sorry!" he says, "I legitimately thought that was a joke."

"Yes, I rather think that Mycroft's job is a joke," Gramzy says, "Now that you're becoming a family man you'd better get a job more fitting to your position."

"I'm sorry," Greg chuckles, "Did you just accuse this madly posh man of not having enough money?"

Mycroft takes a page from John's book and takes Greg's hand to give it a squeeze.

"I'm sure it seems like that too you," Gramzy says, "Since he had to provide you with suitable clothes for the evening,"

John shifts in a way that indicates that Sherlock provided his clothes for the evening as well.

"He likes to dress me," Greg says with a grin toward Mycroft's direction, "And frankly I'm a fan of it myself."

"Well that's nice dear," Gramzy says patting Mycroft's arm, "I'm glad you found a man you can dress up like a doll." 

The maid walks in, "Dinner is served, ma'am."

"Very good," she says extending her arm to Sherlock to be escorted into the dining room, "And only ten minutes late. That's a marked improvement over yesterday."

"Stop smiling," Mycroft whispers to Greg.

"I'm sorry," Greg chuckles.

"She's not funny. She's mean," he hisses as quietly.

"She's definitely both," Greg whispers giving Mycroft's hand (which he never dropped) a squeeze.

-0-

"Thank you for doing that," Mycroft says dropping Greg's hand for the first time in hours, "I know she can be a lot to take."

"I get the feeling that the Holmes's family is full of forces of nature," Greg says.

"I do apologize," Mycroft says, "You've agreed to save me for Christmas with the family, and already I've cajoled you into three different outings. I would understand if you wanted to get out of the original deal."

"Far from it," Greg says. "Although, I think Sherlock might have suspected something. Perhaps we should have another practice date."

Mycroft looks at him critically for long enough that Greg worries he can see straight through him. He might be pushing the fake date thing a bit too far. Then Mycroft smiles, "I agree, so long as this outing does not include either the entertainment of elderly women or the consumption of carbonated beverages."

"I think we could work something out," Greg says.

"Tuesday then? That tends to be the day that you leave the earliest," Mycroft says.

"You know most people don't like it when you point out exactly how much you've been stacking someone."

"We call it surveillance in our line of work," Mycroft says with


	4. 2018, December 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys go bowling.

"You were serious about giving me a challenge this time," Mycroft says from the backseat window of his towncar. 

"Yet, it only took you twenty minutes, impressive," Greg says opening the door. 

Mycroft slides over, "I'd say you're pretty impressive too, picking one of the rare spots in London which is not covered by CTV." 

"Didn't work though," Greg says sliding into the car next to him, and closing the door. 

"I am familiar with all of the parts of London which I cannot see." 

"Of course you are," Greg says. He then becomes a bit nervous, and fidgety, "I wasn't sure if I was supposed to plan this or if you were. So...if you planned something we should do that, but if you didn't..." 

"Let's do yours," Mycroft says knowing that whatever Greg has planned is bound to be more fun than his own plot. 

"Bowling," he says slowly. Then he rushes forward faster, "I know that is kind of lame, but this is glow and the dark, and...I"m sorry, you're not the kind of bloke who rents shoes by the hour." 

"I enjoyed bowling once," Mycroft says. 

"Really?" Greg asks in surprise. 

"It was popular among boys at my boarding school for a brief time. I rather miss it I think." 

"Oh, bowling was big when I was in junior high too," Greg says with a grin, "Of course for me it was way more about the flirting with the girls." 

"I never got into that much myself," Mycroft says with sly smile. 

"I don't suppose you did," Greg chuckles, "But you went to all all boy's school didn't you? Must have been easy to pull there. I never did much exploring the male side of my sexuality, because getting females was easier." 

"I assure you that being gay in my school was not easy, and I didn't 'pull', when I was in high school," Mycroft says straightening his clothes. 

"Ah, school wasn't so fun for you?" Greg asks with soft concern. 

"School made me what I am," Mycroft says, and Greg gets the feeling he is talking far more about the ice man persona that he holds to, and not any of the better aspects of his personality. 

"So you're saying that if a bunch of teenagers had been kind to little you someone else would be running the country right now?" 

"I do not run the country," Mycroft says with eyes narrowed at the other man across the car. 

"You do run the country, but tonight you are going to go bowling with me," Greg chuckles. 

-0- 

Mycroft's scowl goes deeper and deeper every time he makes a gutter ball. 

"Can I help you?" Greg asks. 

"I'm just a little rusty," Mycroft says, "I'll get the hang of it again." 

"Look, either we can get the granny bumpers out, I can start throwing gutter balls so you don't have to be alone in this, or you can let me help you," Greg says. 

Mycroft chuckles, "I'm not used to not being the best at things," he admits. 

"You're holding on to it too long, and you don't have any follow through," Greg says moving to stand behind Mycroft. Greg moves his hand down the other man's and grabs into Mycroft's hand which is holding the bowling ball. Greg brings his arm back, and then pushes it forward. The restrictiveness of Mycroft's coat prevents the follow through. "Well I think I've found the problem," Greg says. "You've got to take off your coat." 

Mycroft raises his eyebrows, "Isn't it polite to wait until you've arrived at someone's flat before you start to stripe your partner?" 

Greg chuckles, "I don't think it seeing you in shirt and waistcoat will make me lose the ability to control myself." 

Mycroft pulls the coat off, and frowns at perceived cleanliness of the seats around himself, and then places it gingerly on the seat. Greg finds that he was a bit wrong about how much the losing of one layer of clothing would have on him. Mycroft preens, ever so slightly, when he sees Greg's gobsmacked look. "I believe it's your turn." 

"Right," Greg says walking forward to make a cringe worthy gutter ball. 

"Just to be clear," Mycroft says, "I didn't agree to you throwing the game." 

"Git," Greg says, throwing the ball in a slightly less embarrassing manner. 

Mycroft takes his ball again, and knocks over more than half the pins this time. 

"Nice!" Greg says. 

"It's been a long time since I took that thing off in public," Mycroft says, "It's nice. Freeing." 

Greg nods, "You need to relax more often." 

Then Mycroft remembers that this is all make believe, and that it's going to be over all together too soon, and he suddenly wants to wrap himself up in a dozen fancy coats and add on a few more slimming waistcoats. He reminds himself that it is unwise to get attached to things that he can never have. Instead he just turns his face into armor, and doesn't let any of his emotions seep out. 

Greg senses the change, but doesn't push it. Cracking Mycroft's armor might be fun, but it was a dangerous game to play, particularly when their relationship was both fictional and temporary.


	5. 2019, December 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They arrive for Christmas.

Mycroft chuckles as opens the door of the town car, and moves to open the boot, "I suppose you're going to explain to Mummy why we're late?" 

"I don't know, is she the type of person likely to be amused by adults playing hide-and-seen in the city of London?" Greg asks. Then he pauses, "Wait, you actually refer to your mother as Mummy?" Greg says as he heaves the suitcase into the boot of Mycroft's car carefully avoiding the other man's garment bags. 

Mycroft rolls his eyes at the question. "Mummy refers to Sherock as the grown-up. I'm not sure exactly how she would feel about us acting so immature as to be playing a game when we had an appointment that we were supposed to be getting to." 

"I can't imagine you doing anything that is immature, or for that matter imagine Sherlock being mature," Greg says. 

Mycroft avoids his eyes. 

"What was it like to grow up in your family?" Greg asks softly and with sympathy. 

"All the information you need about my upbringing was in your briefing packet," Mycroft says closing the boot, and walking around to get back in the car. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to pry," Greg says. 

Mycroft doesn't respond, but instead opens his lap top, and begins to type away on it. Greg lets the silence sit between them last for nearly five minutes before he says, "This isn't going to work. No one is going to buy that we are in a relationship." 

"I've decided to tell them we had a fight on our way down," Mycroft tells him, "I'd intended to tell you right before we arrived hoping that your annoyance at me would help to prove your case." 

Greg suddenly wishes that he had as much control over his emotions as Mycroft did. "What are we supposed to have fought over then?" 

"I thought that was clear, my obsession with my work," Mycroft says going back to his work. 

"Yeah, that's a stupid plan. The whole idea is to have your mother thinking you're living your happily ever after with someone, not that you're about to break up with them," Greg says. 

Mycroft looks at him with a bit of pain behind his eyes. 

"Come on, have faith in us, we can do better than a squabbling couple," Greg says scooting over in his seat, and leaning against Mycroft. Mycroft shuts his computer quickly. "Sorry," Greg says pulling away, "I didn't want you to think that I was trying to look at classified materials. 

"No," Mycroft says slowly, and carefully, "You were just initiating physical contact." 

"I'm sorry," Greg says his stomach tied in knots feeling as if he crossed a line, even though the two of them have touched before, and he couldn't have predicted Mycroft's reaction. 

"It's quite all right," Mycroft says smoothing his shirt. 

"If you don't want to do this anymore..." Greg begins wishing that Mycroft's town car had as many stops as he metro he's more used to traveling in. 

Mycroft looks scared when he says, "Please don't leave." 

"Okay," Greg says offering him a smile, "So, are we touching when we get there?" 

"Yes, of course," Mycroft says sliding over, and putting his arm around Greg. Greg stays rigid, not wanting to do wrong whatever he did wrong before. But Mycroft says, "Relax." 

Greg lets himself lean into it. The smell of Mycroft's super expensive cologne, like no smell on the planet Earth, wafts into Greg's nose, and does funny things to his stomach. 

-0- 

"Oh Mycroft!" Mummy says hugging him, "I'm so glad you could come for extra days this holiday." 

"It fell on a weekend, so I didn't need to take any extra days off," Mycroft explains. 

"Well, since it was so convenient you'd think that you could arrive at the time that we'd agreed to," she tuts. 

"That was my fault, Mrs. Holmes. I might have got a bit lost," Greg says stepping forward to shake her hand. 

Mrs. Holmes turns the hand shake into a hug. "Now, don't take the blame for Mycroft. He could find you anywhere in London if he really wanted to. I am sure he got so caught up in his paperwork, that he forgot he wasn't the only person on the planet." 

"Actually I couldn't," Mycroft says with sparkling eyes, "Greg likes to help me find the blind spots in London's CTV's. He's rather good at it." 

"Hmm..." Mrs. Holmes says, "That's an odd thing to be doing with your days off." 

"Do you think tea is in order?" Mr. Holmes says hugging neither of the other men, because he can see that it would not be welcome to them. Instead he bustles out of the room. 

"We can wait for it in the sitting room," Mycroft says. 

"I can help with the tea," Greg says feeling odd. 

"You don't want to, father makes tea which tastes better than any other tea. I'm quite sure I don't know how he does it. I've watched him do it multiple times, taken measurements even, but I can not reproduce it." 

"Okay," Greg says, "But what about our luggage?" 

"You go in and wait, and I'll run them up to our room." 

"That's not fair. My luggage is heavier than yours is." 

"Honestly, I don't mind, dear," Mycroft says pointedly. 

"I'll go up with you to make sure there are enough blankets," Mrs. Holmes 

Greg figures this is some sort of misplaced chivalry, and walks toward the pointed to into the parlor. Rosie is running between the two adults slamming into them at full force giggling. John is trying to settle her down. Sherlock is egging her on. 

She turns delighted by the new adult, and runs toward him. Greg scoops her up just before she makes contact. 

"I'm so sorry," John says blushing, and rushing to take the kid out of the other man's hands. 

"It's okay," Greg assures him with a smile ruffling her hair in John's arms. 

"Please explain to John that children must be allowed to play," Sherlock says leaning back to roll his eyes. 

"You did not have to invent this game!" John says. Rosie is squirming in his arms, "Hey, do you want to play patty-cake?" John asks her. 

"Yes!" she exclaims. 

"Really John, you've got to stop treating her as if she were an average child. It's quite insulting," Sherlock says. 

"She's a little kid, Sherlock, even an above average child, is still not an adult," he says sitting down, and putting out his hands which Rosie starts clapping hers against. 

"If you're going to play those insipid games, the least you could do is say the words. Early exposure to rhyming games increases linguistic abilities." 

"What is up with Sherlock?" Greg says sitting down across from John. 

"He read a parenting book," John says. 

Sherlock snorts, "Articles, based on actual research instead of the arm chair philosophers who write those terrible books." 

"Lay off, Sherlock, your making John think he's a bad father," Greg says. 

"What?" Sherlock says looking up surprise, "How could he think that? He's a brilliant father." 

"Well, you have corrected everything that I have done with her in the past week," John points out. 

"I'm sorry," Sherlock says flopping over to the other side of the couch, and putting his nose into John's neck, "I just wanted to be involved. Rosie is your daughter. It was foolish, but I just wanted to be a part of that." 

"Oh Sherlock," John says wrapping his arm around Sherlock, and pulling him even closer, "You don't have to do a bunch of research, and become super dad to work your way into what we have here. You are already part of this. You're my partner," John says kissing his cheek, "I love you, and so does Rosie." 

"Thank you John," Sherlock says. 

"Brother dear, I'm not sure that that level of affection is appropriate in front of a small child. You might be creating emotional scars on the poor girl," Mycroft says downright fondly. 

"Rosie will be the better for seeing affection," Sherlock snarks before giving her a kiss on the forehead. 

"You get everything sorted up there?" Greg asks. 

"Yes, Mummy is just fussing over the towels. We couldn't use the amount that she's put out if we started to bath a hundred times a day," Mycroft says sitting down next to Greg. He pauses for only a second before placing his hand on Greg's knee. 

"Well, look at who is suddenly okay with public displays of affection," Sherlock says smiling at his brother. 

"When in Rome," Mycroft says with a shrug of his shoulders. 

"I've got to melt my ice man don't I?" Greg asks. 

Mycroft looks at him in horror, "I had no idea that you had heard of that nickname." 

"I've heard it, but I never for a minute believed it," Greg says giving him a kiss with a mouth that never stops smiling. Mycroft finds it strangely intimate, somehow more intimate than more graphic kisses that he has engaged in his lifetime. 

Mr. Holmes walks in with the tea just then. "I apologize, I didn't ask you how you liked your tea before I left. I made it up like Mycroft's, but I'd be happy to fix you another one if I guessed wrong." 

"That's fine," Greg says despite the fact that he has no idea how Mycroft takes his tea. 

Mycroft grabs a tea cup, and hands it to Greg, before grabbing one that is the same dark color before taking a sip. "Perfect as always, Father." 

Sherlock hands Rosie a cup which is only half full, and clearly contains far more sugar and milk than tea. She holds it up to him, and nearly quivers with excitement. 

"Right," Sherlock says looking a little bashful. He picks up his own up, of a slightly darker hew, and taps it lightly against her cup, "Here is to you!" 

Rosie takes a sip, and then says, "Ahhhhhh!" so dramatically that half of the sip runs down her face. Sherlock grabs a towel which his father helpful provided to wipe her face. 

Mycroft puts his cup down, "I'd better check on Mother, you know how much she would hate to miss tea time." 

Rosie walks over to her father to repeat the ceremony with him. "Were Mycroft and I that messy with our cheers when we were her age?" Sherlock asks Mr. Holmes. 

"You were, Mycroft of course was impeccable with his manors and his hygiene no matter what age we are talking about," Mr. Holmes says smiling. 

A bit later, Mrs. Holmes walks in, without her son in tow. Greg figures it won't be long until someone gets suspicious of Mycroft's disappearance, and he figures it would be better for him to be the one to find him rather than others. "I'm afraid I need to use the restroom." 

"There is one off the library," Mrs. Holmes says standing, "I could show you." 

"That's quite alright. I'm sure I'll be able to find it," Greg says walking out without her. He doesn't go the way she indicated though, but heads straight up the stairs. The first room is a nursery, clearly set up for the grandchild. This was more than a bit over the top since as far as Greg new it was the first time that Rosie had gone to visit them. The second one was a guest room clearly meant for grown-ups, but the suitcases on the bed didn't belong to them. The third room has Mycroft lying on the bed with his eyes closed, and a wet flannel on his head. 

Mycroft remains unaware of Greg until the other man sits down on the bed. The Mycroft sits up quickly startled. When he see who has joined him, he lays back on the bed, and covers his face again, "I apologize for not feeling very well. You can rejoin the festivities. I will return shortly." 

"Was it the spit? It's okay if you were grossed out by it," Greg tells him. 

"No," Mycroft says, "Our father taught us to do that when we were young." 

"Greg wishes he has the ability to deduce that the Holme's brother had, "Do you not feel like Rosie should do that, because..." he sighs hoping he's wrong, "She's not genetically a Holmes." 

"Rosie is family," Mycroft says in a firm voice removing the wash cloth from his eyes long enough to glare at the other man. 

Greg smiles in relief, "Okay, good. Then what exactly is wrong?" 

Mycroft sighs, "I think I would have gotten beyond sibling rivalry by the time I'd reaching middle age, but apparently that is not the case." 

"You want children?" Greg says not quite able to hide the surprise in his voice. 

"I know it's ridiculous for someone in my line of work. I could never be fair to a child. I'd pity the poor sap who got stuck with me as a father." 

"I don't. I think anyone would be lucky to have you. Anyone who wants a kid as bad as you did is going to give them all of the attention that they deserve," Greg says. 

"It's immaterial, because I am unlikely to become involved in a series enough relationship where a discussion of children would be reasonable," Mycroft says after replacing the rag on his face, to make his face much more difficult to read. 

"Oh Mycroft, you don't need a boyfriend to have a baby. I think you need to think seriously about single fatherhood," Greg says resisting the urge to touch him. He has no excuse right now, when no one is watching them. 

Mycroft pauses for a long time before removing the flannel from his face to look at Greg, he's as unguarded as the other man has ever seen him, "Do you really think that would be wise?" 

"Yes, I think you should find a surrogate and an egg doner, and bless the world with another Holmes." 

"You know abut my sister," Mycroft points out. 

"Yes, and I know you and your brother. I know how well you've taken care of your little brother over the years and I know that if you take care of your kid as well as you do your have your brother I don't think we've got anything to worry about." 

Mycroft blushes, "I think I'm going to then." Then he sits up, "But they think I'm with you!" 

"We'll tell them that we're going to have a baby together, and then you can fake a break up with me at some point between conception, and birth," Greg says. 

"How do you feel about kids, really?" Mycroft asks surely detecting or deducing something on the edges of his face. 

Greg sighs, "My wife, and I tried for years. I'm infertile. She used that as the reason she cheated on me, but...I know she would have anyway," he chuckles, "You know when she fell pregnant, and didn't even know which of her lovers was the father? Yet, I really considered staying married to her, and raising that baby." 

"I'm sorry," Mycroft says. 

"No, it's all right. That wouldn't have ended well. We would have turned that baby into a weapon to wound one another with, and let's be honest she would have always won that contest, because I have a lot more emotions invested in that child than she will ever have." 

Mycroft takes his hand, "I can wait on this. I don't want to cause you any pain." 

"Oh no," Greg smiles, "Seeing you get the child that you deserve is going to ease my pain not make it worse." 

"We'd better get down there soon. My family is used to my disappearances. I've been dramatic since I was a child, but they will be more than a little confused by you pandering to my whims." 

"What?" Greg says, "This is not dramatic, Mycroft. This is you just coping with pain." 

"They didn't mean to cause me pain," Mycroft says. 

"Of course not. That doesn't mean that they didn't do it. You've done this your whole life, and no one has ever checked on you?" 

"Sherlock used to when he was a little boy. He was a great comfort, but when we got old enough my parents corrected this behavior. They hoped this would cause me to grow up, sadly they were apparently wrong about the effect that it would have on me. It made Sherlock grow up, but it didn't help me mature, or control my emotions." 

"Mycroft, you are the most in control person I've ever met. You deserve to be taking care of us like anyone else," Greg says looking at him seriously. 

"Right, back to the fray," Mycroft says standing, squaring his shoulders, and putting back on the ice man persona. 

-0- 

"I'm sorry, but your tea went cold," Mr. Holmes says as soon as they both walk back into the room. "I could make you some more if needed." 

"It's quite all right," Mycroft says. 

"We've actually got a bit of an announcement," Greg says taking the politician's hand and giving it a squeeze. 

Mycroft blushes. It occurs to Greg that if he doesn't tell Mycroft's family now there is a good chance that Mycroft is going to chicken out of it later. 

"Right, I can tell them?" Greg says. 

Mycroft squares his shoulders, and says, "Gregory, and I have decided that we are going to have a child." 

"What?" Sherlock says more surprised than anyone in this room has ever seen him. 

"That's wonderful," Mrs. Holmes gushes, "Does this mean that we can expect a marriage in the future?" 

"No," Mycroft says looking alarmed at the very suggestion. 

"Are you thinking adoption, or...."Mr. Holmes begins. 

"Surrogacy," Mycroft says. 

"I realize that this question is probably going to be considered indelicate, and I assure you that it doesn't make any difference to me, but I find that I can't help myself from being curious-which one of you is going to be the donner?" 

"I'm afraid that will be me," Mycroft says looking down. 

"Afraid?" Greg says, his heart breaking for his fake boyfriend, "Mycroft, I would have wanted you to be the genetic father even if we have an option." 

"Why are you not an option?" Mrs. Holmes asks. 

"Lestrade's infertility was one of the main issues that lead to the end of his marriage," Sherlock states bluntly, causing John to give a little squeeze to his knee. 

"I understand I am supposed to apologize for what I just said," Sherlock says in a monotone voice. 

"I've told you it doesn't count unless you actually know what you did wrong," John says with a tired voice. 

"It's okay," Greg says, "But Mycroft would be the right choice anyway. He's wanted this for a long time." 

"Really?" Mr. Holmes says in surprise. 

Mycroft nods looking down at the floor, and speaking honestly, "I want it so badly, that I would do it even if I wasn't in a relationship." 

"Ah!" Sherlock says in the voice he uses when his deductions have all fallen into place. 

John tilts his head at him, clearly not seeing what the other man is seeing. 

Mrs. Holmes rushes across the room to pull her son into a hug, "Thank you!" When he pulls away she's looking at both of the men, "If you need any help looking after the child, you just let me know." 

"Biscuits!" Rosie says. 

"Was that a request or a recommendation?" Mrs. Holmes says with a giggle, "Well, you are right. It's a grandma's duty to make sure her grandchildren always have enough sweeties. Come on then," she says extending her hand to the little girl. The little girl takes the hand, and the two of them walk out of the room quickly. 

"Brother dear," Sherlock says, "I see what you are doing here. Mycroft opens his mouth trying to stop his brother from whatever he was about to say, but Sherlock rushes on, "I agree with it. Honestly, I think it's about time that you have a child. It might be the thing that finally convinces you that you're not actually my parent." 

Mycroft chuckles. 

"And of course, John and I would be willing to help with whatever you need as well. If you need someone to deduce the surrogates that is something I would really enjoy doing." 

"I'm quite certain you would offend them to the point that I'd have to switch agencies, but I appreciate the emotion that went into it," Mycroft says.


	6. 2018, December 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys go on a walk, and Gramzy gets someone's goat.

Greg wakes up to see the bed dipping, and he has a moment of panic wondering who is in his bed with him, before he remembers that it is not his bed. He turns. 

"Sorry to wake you," Mycroft whispers tying on running shoes. Greg is gobsmacked by the fact that Mycroft is wearing a running suit. It's a posh running suit, to be sure, but that does little to diminish his shock 

"You're going on a run?" Greg asks. 

"A walk. I find that I'm happier when my family time is just a bit limited. I started going for a Christmas walk, since that's not something anyone else in my family would put up with. I suppose I can just invent a walk each day of our extended holiday." 

"Do you have time to wait for me?" Greg asks sitting up and stretching. He doesn't miss the way that Greg's eyes go to the tiny patch of skin reveled by his stretch. 

"You...want to go on a walk with me?" Mycroft asks in surprise. 

"I'm sorry, you said that you wanted time alone, and here I am inviting myself along. Rude," Greg says. 

"No, it's fine. I'd love for you to come along," Mycroft says with shock in his voice. 

"I'll just change really fast. Of course I don't have anything quite as spiffy as you do," Greg grins letting his eyes go up and down Mycroft's body. 

Suddenly the wall their room shares with John and Sherlock's room begins to shake. A low grunt in John's voice comes through the wall, followed by something that can best be described as a squeal voiced by Sherlock's. Mycroft looks at it with horror. 

"I think I can probably walk in this," Greg says looking down at his pajamas. The pajamas that he had bought specifically for this, because usually he just slept in his underwear. 

"Thank God," Mycroft says actually running out of the room. Greg follows him quickly. Mycroft's cheeks are flushing red, and the two of them don't talk into they house has completely disappeared behind them. "This place is beautiful, I can't believe that no one else goes with you on these walks." 

Mycroft sighs, "Christmas is supposed to be about relaxing, I believe, and I've never been able to relax while sitting still." 

"Oh, fine bit of poetry there," Greg grins at him. 

Mycroft suddenly transforms into ice man, though he had somewhat been melted by the beauty of the wood. "Why have you not started dating after your divorce?" 

"It's pretty recent," Greg says falling back a step in surprise at the turn in conversation. 

"It's been official for two years, and in the works for almost a year before that. Your wife was dating other people before the two of you broke up," Mycroft points out. 

"Thanks for the reminder," Greg says grumpily. 

"You should get on one of those dating apps. The algorithms are quite good, I've used some of the code once or twice for other purposes," Mycroft says. 

Greg stops walking, and Mycroft doesn't stop until he is two steps ahead of him. The distance between them is far enough that it encourages raising their voice. "Why are you trying to set up?" 

Mycroft closes his eyes, the ice melting once again, and there is something tender and soft in his face which breaks Greg's heart into a hundred pieces. Greg wants to protect this Mycroft, some little child who put on the mask before the face beneath it had a chance to become fully formed. "I would find it much easier if you were dating someone." 

The realization punches Greg in the stomach. He takes a step forward, "What if the person I wanted to date was you?" 

Mycroft turns away, and begins the walk again, at a pace so quick that Greg almost has to run to catch up, "You already said no. Now you...pity me, but that's not a good way to start things between up." 

"It's not pity, Mycroft! I'm an idiot. That day in my office, I honestly had no idea that you were trying to ask me out." 

"Because you don't see me as a sexual being," Mycroft says spinning to face the other man. 

"Because you are way out of my league, Mycroft. I pictured you with...well a queen, but I suppose a king would work just as well. I am still having trouble believing that you want to be with me right now. I mean...Mycroft have you looked in the mirror?" 

Mycroft snorts, "Yes, that's part of the reason I'm walking." 

"Oh no," Greg says crossing the distance between them, and putting his hand on the other man's waist, "You're fucking gorgeous." 

Mycroft looks genuinely surprised by this, but he quickly shakes his head and starts with the next protest, "My job...prohibits..." 

"I understand your job better than most people would, I think. I understand that sometime you are going to be unavailable, but God Mycroft, sometimes with you is so much better than all the time with someone else." 

Mycroft's lips quiver, "You're sure...You don't just feel sorry for me?" 

"Pity?" Greg chuckles, "You think I want to date you out of pity? There is no one that I pity less than you. Mycroft, there is nothing sad about you." 

"Gramzy will be here soon," Mycroft says turning back to the house. 

"Nope," Greg says grabbing onto the sleeve of his coat. "I've told you how I feel. I've told you I want to be in a relationship, we're not going back to this house until you tell me what you want. Okay? You can tell me no, because you can't be bothered with a relationship with your work, or because you have no interest, or because you can do better than policeman who barely passed secondary school. But," he pauses long enough to actually have Mycroft look at him, "You're not allowed to say no, because you think you're not good enough. Of course I hope you say yes." 

Mycroft looks at Greg, no doubt deducing him, and then he leans forward until their lips are only two centimeters apart. Then Greg bridges the distance touching his lips gently to Mycroft's. He holds them a few seconds, and starts to pull away. One of Mycroft's hands wraps around the back of Greg's waist, and the other grabs his hand and tilts it into the exact place that Greg wants it to be in. Then the kiss deepens. No tongues transgress the border, but somehow it is still the deepest, and best kiss that Greg has ever gotten. The first hint that it's ending is Mycroft's right arm moving to his hip, and the left moving to his shoulder. When Mycroft finally pulls away he steadies Greg. Greg is about to make a joke about how he isn't some fainting maiden who needs help standing, but to this surprise he finds himself a bit unsteady. 

"I find myself hoping that was not the most dramatic 'no' in the history of the world," Greg says. 

Mycroft chuckles running his left hand down Greg's arm to take his hand, and dropping his right hand. "We really do need to get back. If Gramzy comes before we get back she'll assume we were making love in the woods." 

"That woman must have lived a very interesting life," Greg observes. 

Mycroft stops walking again so he can glare at the other man, "Please never ask her about her sex life. She will answer you, and the imagines that come into your mind will never leave you." 

Greg smiles as they begin walking, "Noted. I wouldn't want you to have live through that trauma again." 

"Oh trust me when I say that her words have never left my mind," Mycroft says. The two of them walk a bit farther before the smile falls of Mycroft's face. It's not replaced with the mask of ice. 

"What's wrong?" Greg says squeezing his hand tight. 

"I hadn't considered...this will delay fatherhood for me." 

"Don't be stupid!" 

"Don't be an idiot! We haven't even gone on a proper date yet. We can't be deciding to have children together," Mycroft says dropping his hand. 

"We're not," Greg says causing Mycroft to look at him. "Look, if you'd decided to have a baby by yourself three months ago, or five years ago, it wouldn't be a deal breaker for me. Why should it be because you just decided yesterday? It's not going to be my baby right away, but that doesn't mean it's not going to be eventually. Right now you're just having a kid, and at some point where if we decide that we're...it for each other, than it will be my kid too. Until then it will just be my boyfriend's kid." Mycroft looks at him curiously. "You've waited long enough. In fact, you need to be a father way more than you need to be a boyfriend. So, if you are not going to have a baby if we're dating then we're not doing this. You're not putting your life on hold for me." 

"You're serious?" Mycroft asks. 

"Yeah," Greg says looking sad that apparently the relationship is over before it's even begun. 

"Okay then, I'm having a baby by myself while I date you," Mycroft says taking his hand again. 

-0- 

"Would you like tea dear?" Mrs. Holmes says without turning to look when the kitchen door creeks open. 

"That would be lovely," Greg says at the same time that Mycroft says, "Not before I've gotten cleaned up, thank you." 

Mrs. Holmes turns in surprised, "Oh! You went on a walk with him? That so sweet! I don't think Myc has ever had someone who walked with them before. Oh!" she covers her mouth, "You should get matching sweat suits! Oh Mycie, I wish I'd known you too walked together before got you Christmas presents!" 

"You'd have had to be psychic to know that," Greg says, "This is the first time I've done it. If you aren't as scandalized as Mycroft is about my pajamas I might just take you up on the tea." 

"Not at all," she says, "I hope you don't think I was trying to say something disparaging about your clothing choice." 

"No, but Gramzy is coming so you might want to get dressed before tea," Mycroft hints. 

"Really, I don't know how why you take everything my mother says as a personal insult, Mycroft Holmes," Mrs. Holmes says. 

Greg snorts, and then catching a sigh of Mummy's confused face he covers his mouth, "Oh, I'm so sorry. I had no idea that you would actually be serious about that! You really don't know that she's a bit passive aggressive at times?" 

"A bit?" Mycroft asks. 

"I'm sure I don't see it, but it's cute that you've found someone to agree with you Mcy," she smiles. 

On the stairs they run into John and Sherlock. Mycroft turns bright red, and can't meet them in the eyes. Sherlock seams confused, and opens his mouth to ask a question, but Mycroft runs past him before he has the chance. "Walls are thin in this old place aren't they?" Greg says before chasing after him. 

"Oh God!" John says. 

"I don't understand why that would make him blush," Sherlock says, "Surely he was able to deduce that we were having sex." 

"Knowing and hearing are very different things," John exclaims in horror. 

"Thank you for...addressing that," Mycroft says when they were in the bedroom alone, "I couldn't have formed the words, but that will...decrease the chances of a repeat." 

"No problem," Greg says. Mycroft pushes him against the door pressing a kiss to his lips, and then trailing it down to his neck. "Wow, if that's the kind of thank you I get for telling your brother off I think I'm going to have make a habit of it," Greg says. 

Mycroft chuckles, "I'll take the downstairs bath, and you can have the upstairs one. I'll see you at breakfast." Mycroft grabs his luggage. Greg places a peck on his cheek which makes Mycroft break out in a campy grin. 

-0- 

"What time is Gramzy supposed to come?" Greg asks looking at his watch over tea. Everyone in the room, apart from John, glares at him. Greg looks at Mycroft pleading for an explanation of what he was doing wrong. 

"Gramzy was due here an hour past," Mycroft says. 

"Oh, is it time to worry?" John asks. 

"No," Mrs. Holmes says, "I'm afraid my mother is not necessarily what you would call reliable." 

"Oh," Greg says looking down, and being embarrassed for asking. 

-0- 

Gramzy arrives just when dinner starts, or more properly half an hour after dinner was supposed to start. Mycroft scoops a large hunk of potatoes onto his plate, and his grandmother says, "That's a lovely waistcoat, very slimming" Gramzy says with eyebrows raised. Mycroft passes the potatoes on, and places his silverware beside his plate. Greg squeezes his knee under the table, and fights the urge to feed the food to him. Mycroft relaxes under the contact, and this causes Gramzy to turn to another victim "Sherlock my dear, did you enjoy Christmas shopping this year?" 

Sherlock glares at her, and John snorts, "As if he would ever be that thoughtful, don't worry, I found things for you guys." 

"I bought presents this year," Sherlock says defensively to John. 

"What? You did?" John says in shock. 

"Well for you, and Rosie at least," Sherlock says. 

John looks very pleased, and Sherlock starts to fidget in nervousness. He points to his brother, "Mycroft is going to have a baby." 

Gramzy blinks, and grins, "When is the baby coming?" 

"I...I just made the decision, Gramzy. It will take a while to select a surrogate and egg donor." 

"Oh, well I do hope that I'll get to meet the child before I tip over," Gramzy says. 

"Oh, I don't think we have to worry about that. I've no doubt that you are are some immortal being," Mr. Holmes says with a smile. 

Mycroft still hasn't taken a bite since his Grandmother's comment about his weight, and Greg feels anger bubbling up inside of him. He asks for the gravy causing Sherlock to raise his eyebrows at the lack of potatoes on his plate. Greg reaches over and dents the potatoes on Mycroft's plate, and poured the gravy over it. Mycroft looks at him with wide eyes. "Oh, sorry dear, I just assume you wen't eating, because no one offered you the gravy. There better not be any other reason." 

Greg looks up reluctantly when the silence lasts too long. The whole room is staring at him, apart from Mycroft who is looking down and smirking. Mycroft picks up his spoon, and spoons some mashed potatoes into his mouth. He grins at Greg, "Would you like a bite dear?" 

"Yes," Greg says smiling. Mycroft scoops up a ridiculously sized bite, and puts it in his mouth. 

"Well, I am not all together certain this is the way that adults behave at dinner," Gramzy says. 

"It is," Sherlock says winking at his brother. "John, would you like to feed me something?" 

"Anything that increases your caloric intake," John says cutting him off a piece of meat, and leaning over to put it in his mouth. 

Greg feels a finger tracing letters on his legs, "Thank you," it says, and everything in Greg wants to travel back in time in order to stand up for Mycroft when he was just a boy instead of waiting for him to grow completely up.


	7. 2018, December 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets a present.

Sherlock paces back and forth in the room, and Rosie runs after him giggling. Mrs. Holmes closes the paper, and looks at his son with a bit of annoyance in his face. 

"Son," he says with a sigh, "Do you think you should give John his present tonight?" 

"What?" Sherlock squeaks in surprise. 

"We used to let you open one on Christmas Eve didn't we son?' Mrs. Holmes asks. 

"Yes, but this is different," Sherlock says looking at his father with a bit of terror in his face. 

"I think you'll drive us all crazy if you wait," Mr. Holmes says. 

Sherlock runs out of the room. Rosie tries to run after him, but is scooped up by Mycroft. She lets out a low note of protest, but he soothes her by saying, "I'm going to need a lot of practice Rosie, very soon I'm going to have my own little one. You'll have to help me learn to be a daddy." He grabs her by the ankle and holds her upside down, "Is this the right way to hold you?" 

"No!" She giggles. 

"Oh!" he maneuvers her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, "Is this better?" 

"No!" Rosie giggles once again. 

Mycroft scoops her up, and twists around in a circle. 

"I really think you should do some research before you reproduce, brother mine," Sherlock says returning to the room, scoping up Rosie, and carrying her over to sit text to John. 

"Thank ou!" Rosie says grabbing the present from Sherlock. 

"No, this is for Papa," Sherlock says. 

Rosie pouts as she hands over a small box. John takes it confidently, "Yes." 

"You didn't open it," Sherlock says. 

"I will, but you can stop being nervous right now, because I'm going to say yes," John says. "You want to help me unwrap this Rosie?" 

Rosie paws at it somewhat ineffectively, and John cleverly rips at the edges to make it easier. A small velvet box is underneath, and John pops it open to revel a gold ring with a complicated design. John looks expectantly at Sherlock who takes it out of the box, and tries to put it on John's finger. John pulls away. "You've got to ask me though." 

"Why? You've already said yes," Sherlock says. 

"If you were only pretending to be nervous to avoid the actual proposal..." John guesses. 

Sherlock sighs, and speaks in almost a mocking voice, "Would you do me the honor of being my husband?" 

"Tone of voice Sherlock," John warns with a smile. 

Sherlock takes John's hand, "I love you. I want to marry you, and promise you forever." 

"There you go," John says leaning forward to kiss him, "I love you too, and I am very happy that we're going to be married." John holds out the hand, and Sherlock puts the ring on him. 

"Stupid pres'nt," Rosie mutters. 

"No, it's the best one," John says taking his daughter from Rosie's arms, "Sherlock has decided that we are family now. Yeah? He's going to be my husband, and he's going to be your daddy. Right?" John says looking over at Sherlock for confirmation. Sherlock nods, and gets all teary eyed. John cuddles closer to him holding the girl between them. 

"Oh, I want to hug my future son-in-law, but I think we can leave the happy family alone for a bit," Mummy says, "Let's all go and have a cup of tea." 

"Sherlock, what is the shape of this ring?" John asks as they rest of the family leaves. 

"You'd think as a doctor you could recognize serotonin," Sherlock replies. 

"Yeah, thought so, that's sweet, Sherlock, giving me the chemical of love," John replies. 

"It's a chemical defect rally, but I've grown rather fond of it," Sherlock replies.


	8. 2018, December 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go on a Christmas walk.

It's the nicest wake up that Mycroft has had in a long time. Greg, and Mycroft are wrapped around one another. Mycroft stares at Greg for a bit causing the other man to wake up. Mycroft leans forward, and places a light kiss on Greg's forehead. "How about we have a lie in instead of a walk today," Greg whispers pushing his cold feet up against Mycroft's legs. 

"I think we can walk this afternoon instead," Mycroft whispers, "As long as you're not planning anything my brother might overhear." 

"God no," Greg says, "The first time we're together is going to be after a dinner, on whatever glorious sheets you have on your bed." 

Mycroft grins, "But first we'll do some plebeian activity you select." 

"You ever had a hot dog from a street vendor?" Greg asks. 

"I'm not sure that I have the stomach enzymes to support that sort of thing," Mycroft returns reaching over to brush a stray gray hair out of his lover's face. 

"I can help you with that," Greg says leaning forward to kiss him furiously. 

"Santa!" Rosie says bursting into the room and jumping on their bed. 

Sherlock stares at the couple in the bed in a mix of confusion, and horror. John blushes, "I'm so sorry!" he says scooping his daughter up, "We didn't mean to interrupt anything." 

"Is it revenge for yesterday?" Sherlock asks suspiciously. 

"Don't be a child, Sherlock," John says with a sigh. 

"He must have deduced this is what children do on Christmas morning," Sherlock defends. 

"You never did," Mycroft says getting out of bed. 

"Well of course not, no one has ever given me a gift where I didn't deduce what was in it beforehand," Sherlock says, "I don't understand, Mycroft, are you...actually with the Detective?" 

"Of course he is," John says surprised by Mycroft's grimace, and Lestrade's chuckle, "Why would they come to your folk's house as a couple if they weren't?" 

"Sibling rivalry of course," Sherlock says. 

"I told you that it would be impossible to fool Sherlock," Greg tells Mycroft as he gets up, and pulls his side 

"I told you that you didn't have to worry about whether or not he knew or not, not that he didn't know," Mycroft says smiling at his brother, "The relationship between Gregory and myself has become genuine on our morning walk yesterday." 

Sherlock raises his eyebrows, "So John and I having noisy intercourse is the only reason that the two of you are together. You owe me brother, mine." 

"Sherlock," John says looking annoyed at Sherlock, and than glancing down meaningfully at Rosie. 

"Santa!" she says when she has a second of her father's attention. 

"Right, lead the way then, dear," John says sitting the girl down. Rosie takes off running, and the rest of the adults walk down the hallway after him. Greg reaches over, and takes Mycroft's hand as they walk.


	9. 2020, January 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parents don't have silent nights.

"You don't have to get up with her," Mycroft scolds lightly trying to take his daughter from Greg's arms. 

"I'm fine," Greg says continuing to give the baby a bottle. "You should go back to bed. When is the last time you've gotten enough sleep?" 

"Who needs sleep when they have a baby?" Mycroft says, "Besides, it's New Years, and it's a bit traditional not to get enough sleep." He leans against Greg's shoulder. 

"Hand me the burp rag would you?" Greg says, and the two, still leaning on one another, dance a bit around the room a bit so Mycroft can reach out and grab the rag without taking his head off of Greg's shoulder. Mycroft snaps it onto Greg's shoulder, and takes the bottle from his son's mouth. Greg lifts the baby up, and begins rubbing the baby's back in the perfectly practiced way that causes the baby to burp twice as fast as anything that Mycroft can do. 

"See, I knew you'd spit up, little one," Greg coos wiping her mouth, "I've got you figured out, yeah?" Greg looks over at Mycroft in alarm, "You're so tired, you're actually crying! Go to bed right now!" 

"You're so good with her," Mycroft wails. 

Greg maneuvers around to pull his partner into a hug with the hand which isn't holding the baby. "It's okay," Greg coos, it's okay. You go to bed, and I'll join you when I've got her down." 

"I love you," Mycroft says. 

"Yes, of course," Greg says, "I love you too. Now go on, and get a bit of sleep." 

"You are so kind to my daughter," Mycroft continues. 

"Of course, Mycroft, I love her too, you know" Greg says. 

"You do?" Mycroft asks sounding confused. 

"Of course," Greg says maneuvering the family over to the crib to lay down the baby in the cot. 

"You love my baby, and you love me, so you have to get rid of your apartment." 

"I've been thinking the same thing, actually," Greg says, "It is a bit of a waste of money." He tilts his boyfriend away from leaning on him to lay the baby down as gently as possible. 

"You'll come here, and marry me, and we'll have more babies as soon as I finish napping," Mycroft mutters beginning to shuffle back to his bedroom. 

"Wait, did you just propose to me?" Greg asks holding his lover out at arms's length for better integration. 

Mycroft blinks at him in confusion, "I don't have a ring." 

"Well, I don't need a ring. I just need to know if you were serious or not. Forget it. You're too tired to be able to really answer me if you are serious or not right now. We'll talk more about this in the morning." 

"You'll marry me in the morning," Mycroft says. 

Greg chuckles, "Yes, love, but we're going to have to give notice first." 

"Stupid law, I'll get it changed," Mycroft mutters. 

Greg just gives him a tap on his back directing him toward his the bedroom. Mycroft curls up in the bed right against Greg when they get to bed, and Greg rubs his back while the other man takes only a couple of minutes to fall asleep. 

-0- 

Greg jumps up the next morning startled at the gurgle of a baby. His hands flare a bit trying to protect the child from falling off the bed, or any other unseen dangers that she might have found herself in while he was sleeping. 

"Sorry," Mycroft says from beside him, "We didn't mean to wake you." Greg turns toward his love to see him balancing a baby the his knees. 

"Morning," Greg says. 

Mycroft stares at him, clearly expecting Greg to say something. 

"What?" Greg asks. 

"You told me you would give me an answer in the morning," Mycroft reminds him. 

It takes a moment for the gears in Greg's break click together, "Oh my God, you asked me to marry you last night?" 

The ice man, which Greg has rarely seen when they are alone together, threatens to come back at the realization which is certainly not an answer. 

"Yes, of course, I'll marry you," he says. 

Mycroft grins, "And you're going to adopt little Sherlock?" he says looking down at his daughter, "My brother has actually never filled out the adoption papers for Rosie." 

"I'd love to," Greg says eyes spilling over with a few tears when he looks at the baby. 

The little girl flails her arms in the general direction of Greg. 

"You want to go to Papa?" Mycroft asks handing her over. Greg starts crying in earnest now, and Mycroft moves over in the bed so he can hold his fiance as he holds the baby. 

"I never thought I'd get to be a father," Greg says trying to get a hold of himself. Then suddenly he remembers some discussion from last night that he had forgotten at first, "And you mentioned more children?" 

"I don't think we should wait to long if we're planning on it," Mycroft says. "Neither of us are getting any younger." 

"I think we should plan a nice wedding first," Greg says, "Not too large. Half a year perhaps, and then we can have another." 

"We could do that, or I could get the waiting period reduced, and we could get married tomorrow," Mycroft says. 

Greg rolls his eyes, "Sherlock already beat you to a marriage. I don't see what the rush is." 

"You were very loyal in your last marriage," Mycroft says softly. 

"I'm loyal here, Mycroft," Greg says sounding offended, "Are you under the impression that I cheated on you?" 

"Of course not," Mycroft says. "I just mean...if you decide to marry me you're unlikely to change your mind, at least for years." 

"I'm never changing my mind," Greg says leaning forward to give him a kiss, "We don't have to invite any or your relatives if we don't want to, and if you fine the whole event hateful we can go small with two witness, but we're not going to rush this. I'm not going to change my mind." 

Mycroft leans forward and kisses the only man whose ever been able to deduce his heart.


	10. 2020, January 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock finds his birthday present a bit early.

Sherlock knows there is something in the flat that John doesn't want him to know about. It came in with the bag of underwear and socks for Rosie that John was oddly nervous about two days ago. This is the first time that John has gone to work since the suspicious behavior, and Sherlock rushes upstairs to take advantage of it. After all, it's not often that John tries to keep a secret, and Sherlock doesn't know exactly what that secret is. 

"You won't tell Papa, Daddy was snooping now will you?" he puts John's medical textbook, open to one of the internal organ pages, in front of her by way of distraction. 

It takes him a while to find it, because John's gotten good enough at knowing Sherlock's methods that he can predict the order in which Sherlock is going to do things. But eventually Sherlock finds it, behind the air vent in the ceiling. 

It's a folder labeled, "Adoption." Sherlock's heart soars at the idea that John wants to have more children. He scoops Rosie, and book up, and rushes downstairs, slapping three nicotine patches on himself and opening up his computer to do some research. 

-0- 

"Sherlock! Where is Rosie!" John says slamming Sherlock's laptop down frantically. 

"With Ms. Hudson," Sherlock says annoyed at having the search pages closed so quickly. 

"Oh thank God, I asked you where she was five times, and you wen't answering, and I thought you'd forgotten about her," John says clasping into the chair across from him. 

"I would never for get about Rosie," Sherlock says indignantly. 

"So what's the case?" John asks. 

"No case," Sherlock says opening his computer back up. 

"Okay, so what 'not a case' has got you so involved?" John asks. 

"I'm researching adoption," Sherlock says. 

John laughs, "Yeah, should have known you'd see that. Me thinking I could hide something from the world's only consulting detective. It was supposed to be a birthday present, but leave it to you to ruin something like that." 

"I hardly think a human is an appropriate gift for a birthday, John," Sherlock says dismissively. 

"What do you mean?" John says, then he covers his mouth, "Oh Sherlock! You didn't actually look inside the folder did you?" 

"No," Sherlock says glancing over the computer at him, "No offense John, but I was certain my research would be better than yours." 

"Oh," John says, "Sherlock, that was paperwork so you could adopt Rosie." 

Sherlock's fingers pause on the keys, "Of course." He stands up and heads into the bedroom. He'd completely forgotten that ever since they'd gotten married John had a habit of following him in there. It's a side effect of relationship he hadn't taken into account, no place to pout privately. 

"You don't want to adopt, Rosie?" John asks. 

"She's called me Daddy for months now," Sherlock pouts dropping dramatically onto the bed, "I didn't think adoption was necessary." 

"Oh Sherlock," John says sliding into bed next to him, "Of course you're already her father! This was meant to be recognizing the truth. She'll be going for school next year, and I just wanted to make it official." 

"Six hours..."Sherlock says, "Our family was bigger for six hours." 

"Oh Sherlock," John says, "We can have a baby. I never guessed... You could have said." 

"I didn't know until I saw the word on the folder today." 

"Okay," John says giving him a kiss on the cheek, "We're going to do this, yeah, but not today. Right now, I'm going to hold you until the emotions becomes bearable, and then we are going to get our eldest some dinner, and give her a bath, and bed. Then you can show me the research, and we'll talk about exactly how we're going to do this." 

"I want to adopt Rosie first," Sherlock says quickly. 

"Yeah, that feels right," John says. 

"I want a baby," Sherlock says. 

"Okay," John agrees. 

"Oversees," Sherlock continues, "But we're going to have to do a lot of research, because some oversees orphanages trick parents into giving away their children, and I do not want a baby that has in any way been stolen. 

"Of course not," John agrees, "But seriously, let's rest, and then go get Rosie." 

"I love you," Sherlock tells him, "Even if I don't tell you that very often." 

"You don't have to say it," John says. "You show me."


End file.
